Sometimes life takes us where we never plan to go. My journey into the creator economy was one such surprise.

In January 2025, a few close friends and I met at our usual spot to celebrate turning sixty. Jalil, Jai, and Chin Leong have known me since childhood. The evening began like all our other gatherings, filled with laughter, food, and easy talk. Then Jai asked, “What are we doing with the rest of our lives?”

We fell silent. Each of us had worked hard, raised families, and saved for retirement. Yet none of us had really thought about what came next.

The simple plan

“We should give back to society,” Vincent said.

That set us thinking. We talked about volunteering, helping the elderly, or supporting environmental causes. Then Jai mentioned education. The table went quiet.

We all knew why. Each of us owed our lives to it. I was the first in my family to go to university. Chin Leong’s parents sold vegetables to pay his school fees. Jalil studied in a one-room flat with five siblings and still completed polytechnic. Jai, too, came from humble beginnings and knew the power of education.

Education had lifted us from struggle to stability. Without it, we would not have been sitting there that night.

“That is what we should do,” Jai said. “Help children get the education we were lucky to have.”

It was decided. We would set up an Education Trust for underprivileged children and give ourselves five years to plan it well.

My own beginning

Five years felt long, and I wanted to begin right away.

I had always enjoyed writing. After retirement, I promised myself I would finally put the stories in my head onto paper. I brought my plan forward. What if my writing could help a few children go to school?

I knew nothing about publishing. I searched online and found a maze of new terms. Print on demand, ISBN numbers, Amazon KDP. It felt like learning a whole new world.

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Learning as I went

My first attempt was messy. The formatting broke, the cover looked poor, and the description was too short. But people online were kind. In forums, strangers answered my questions. YouTube became my Guru. Slowly, I learned.

My first book, I Am the River: A Story of Singapore Before Singapore, came from childhood memories. I had seen the river change from a polluted canal into a lively part of the city. The writing was rough, but it was mine.

To my surprise, it sold more than a hundred copies. When the National Library Board accepted it into its collection, I felt deeply moved. My book was now in the same library where I once studied.

Encouraged, I wrote Black Swan, White Swan. My children helped design the cover. I worked on a better description. It was launched on 24 October 2025 and sold more than fifty copies. The National Library has agreed to take two print editions and the digital version.

Each sale meant more than money. It meant real help for a child’s education.

Whenever a copy was sold, I thought of that evening with my friends. Maybe this was how our Education Trust would begin, one small effort at a time.

The technology struggle

No one warned me how much technology comes with writing. I began with Word, then tried a program called Scrivener. I opened it, stared at it for an hour, and quietly went back to Word.

Amazon KDP seemed simple until I reached the tax section. W-8BEN, EIN, TIN. After hours of confusion, I found that most of it did not apply to me.

Social media was another challenge. My son created an Instagram account for me. “Post regularly, Pa,” he said. I posted once, forgot the password, and ended up with two accounts and one lonely photo.

Marketing puzzled me even more. I listed The Singapore River under History and wondered why no one found it. Later, I learned about sub-categories and something called algorithms. I still do not fully understand them.

What came next

I thought I was just writing books. Then my daughter told me I was part of the creator economy. I laughed, but she was right.

I am not trying to be famous. I only want to write stories and help children. But I have learned that even simple dreams need modern tools.

The best part is meeting others like me. Retired teachers writing textbooks, engineers sharing their knowledge, grandmothers publishing recipe books. We are all learning together, fumbling through the same tools, and cheering one another on.

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Small steps forward

Ten months later, I have two published books and more than 150 sales, along with recognition from the National Library. The money raised has helped a few children. It may not be much, but it matters.

My friends and I are still working on the Education Trust. We have met several times, drafted papers, and even argued over the name. Setting it up is harder than we thought. There are forms, rules, and new terms to learn. But we are making progress, one meeting at a time.

What I learned

We are not special people, just a group of old friends who believe we should give back. There must be many others like us, people with time, experience, and a desire to help.

We may never build the next big business or master every new technology, but we can still create small things that matter.

My books may never top charts. Our Trust may help dozens, not thousands. But that is enough. A few children getting a chance to study is worth it.

A gentle invitation

If you want to do something meaningful but feel unsure about technology, you are not alone. I still ask my children how to post a photo.

Start small. Start unsure. Start anyway.

Ten months ago, I was just turning sixty. Today, I have published two books and a small project helping children stay in school. I am now working on my third book and still learning every day.

Not bad for someone who once had to search online to find out what KDP stood for.

Along the way, I discovered something larger than writing. I had built a small, independent publishing ecosystem of my own. Every book I release, every page I design, and every conversation I start online adds to it.

My journey is less about selling books and more about proving that one storyteller, using today’s digital tools, can build meaningful cultural bridges, one story at a time.

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